


Chasing Cars

by Instagram



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, NOT SAD, Recommend Reading That First, Sequel To Speeding Cars, but not happy, messed up relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3992731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Instagram/pseuds/Instagram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke remembers. </p><p>That’s the problem. Every time he leaves – which is too much – he remembers why he always came back.</p><p>Or, Luke can't decide if his want to leave Michael will ever out way his need for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Cars

**Author's Note:**

> so this is kind of a sequel to speeding cars, except in luke's point of view. this'll make a lot more sense and be a whole lot better if you read that first, and yeah i really hope you like this :)

Luke remembers. 

That’s the problem. Every time he leaves – which is too much – he remembers why he always came back.

“Michael?” 

“He’s not here.” Calum. 

Luke sighed, he was so tired, “Oh, ok,” and he sat down on ‘his’ chair. He wishes that he didn’t have a chair, wishes he wasn’t over at this house every day. 

Calum smiled at him, and Luke wishes he wouldn’t. But Luke just smiles back because Calum was always so nice and sometimes Luke wondered how Calum had managed to stay friends with Michael for so long – then he wonders how he’d stayed with Michael for so long.

He was addicting. 

“Would you like some?” Luke knew what some (drugs, it was always drugs) was, and he wished he didn’t.

He spent a lot of his time wishing these days. He remembers a time when he didn’t believe in wishes, when life wasn’t so complicated and he could have a steady relationship. He wishes his life were like that again.

But it wasn’t. 

“I’m good,” Luke smiled – Luke used to smile all the time. Not this fake smile but a real one.

Then he met Michael. 

Sometimes – occasionally – he wants to shout at Calum, because if he had never met Calum then he would never have met Michael.

Then, he remembers. He remembers why Michael was so addicting – the sweet touches, those sparkling eyes – and he wants to thank Calum. 

The door opens, and closes loudly. Michael. Luke smiles.

“Hey babe,” Michael grins at him, that douche one that Luke loves. He loves Michael, is the thing.

Then he saw the red eyes. And he expected it, he did, he didn’t even flinch when he saw Calum’s but Luke wished that Michael didn’t try and kill himself at every opportunity. 

“Hey,” Luke smiled because that’s what Luke does best. He smiles, and pretends as if he isn’t bothered.

“Didn’t think you’d come.”

That was a lie. Luke always came.

“I’ll always come.”

That was true – Luke wished it wasn’t.

“Got a new tat.”

Luke barely registered Calum leaving the room, didn’t even blink at the frown on his face.

“Idiot.”

Michael was such an idiot, but he was Luke’s idiot. 

“Want to see?” Michael smirked and Luke shook his head, smiling (a real one), before gesturing to see it. 

Luke hated tattoos – as a med student, tattoos were like a worst nightmare – but something about Michael made them cool. Michael made anything cool. 

The tattoo was of blue eyes. Luke’s eyes. 

A minute later Luke was rushing upstairs towards Michael’s room, a smirking red head behind him.

…

Luke walked downstairs – Michael had passed out, the sex and drugs both getting to him – stopping as he saw Calum. Calum was really pretty at night, reading a book (probably from one of his classes that he was probably failing) with the light shining on him.

Luke wondered what would’ve happened if he’d fallen in love with Calum. 

The thing is, Luke imagined it a lot. And the thing is, if he had Luke probably wouldn’t remember like he does with Michael. The drugs, the smokes, the never leaving the house (even if Calum was so much better than Michael) would’ve gotten to him. And he wouldn’t have remembered why he should come back. 

“Hey,” Luke smiles.

Calum looks up, surprised, “Hey. Dinner?” 

Luke shook his head, “Ashton wanted me to help him study.”

Luke was too tired to think about the sad look that flashed through Calum’s face.

He was always too tired these days.

...

"How's Michael?"

Luke should've noticed the tone - that tired, almost stale tone - he's been using it a lot lately, but the idea of Michael always makes his head go dizzy. As if he's floating.

"Like usual, he got a new tattoo-"

"Luke."

Luke blinked, "Yes?"

Ashton looked stressed, "You don't sleep anymore."

And. And. And. 

"What?"

Of course he sleeps. "You don't do anything but study and see Michael and you're fucking dying Luke! How can you not see it?"

"Ashton, I-I. I'm sorry-"

"You don't need to apologise Luke, God, he should." 

They were talking about Michael - Luke didn't know what to do. Why was Ashton so stressed about Luke's life? He was fine. Luke was always fine, Michael made sure he was fine. Luke was fine. Why were they having this conversation?

"I sleep. And seeing Michael isn't a chore-"

"Yes it is! Every time you leave that house it's as if he's taken another piece from you and I can't do this anymore! Luke, what you have isn't love! Love is beautiful and nurturing and kind and Michael is toxic!"

Michael was beautiful, and nurturing, and unbelievably kind. To Luke. Ashton didn't know, he doesn't understand. 

But Luke wasn't dumb, Luke knew that Michael was also toxic. Poison. A drug. 

Luke was crying - God, he didn't cry (he tried so hard not to) - and Ashton suddenly looked shattered. "Oh God Luke, don't cry. Please don't."

"I-I have to go."

Luke was leaving, he couldn't stop the tears. Why couldn't he stop the tears?

"No Luke-"

"Thanks for um, having me and I'll get my books l-later," and Luke was running out the door.

He ran. Fast. Ashton was probably following but God Luke needed to get out of here. 

He needed Michael.

Ashton didn't get it - Luke might not always want Michael, but fuck he needed Michael.

...

Luke slept badly - he always slept badly these days.

Then he went to lessons. He was good at medicine, really good. He was going to be a good doctor, a great one - that's what everyone said - and that's why he loved Michael.

Michael didn't care about school. Michael didn't care about grades, or hair. He cared about whether he liked you or not. He didn't understand medicine, but he pretended to be interested when Luke talked to him about it.

Not impressed, interested. People never understand the difference.

He went to the house after his lessons. He hated the house, but Michael loved it. 

The house was quiet. Luke knew Michael was there - he could smell that scent. He hated the scent, of whatever drug he was into now.

He walked up the stairs and opened the door - he knew the house so well by now - and found Michael, passed out on the floor. 

"Fuck," Luke whispered, and he wanted to cry again. And yell. And scream. 

He loved Michael so much. But he hated all that Michael stood for. 

"Mikey, babe, wake up. Come on babe, I need you right now," Luke whispered, feeling guilty, as Michael sleepily blinked his eyes open.

"Luke?" His voice sounded rasp, and tired, "What are you doing here?"

Luke didn't answer, just hugged Michael. Tightly. And then they were kissing. Passionately. God, Luke loved Michael, loved this.

(He hated it a little as well).

Luke pushed back, and Michael shook a little, startled, "Babe?"

"How'll about we go out for dinner? Please?" Luke asked. He knew - he did - that this was a bad route, but Luke was so tired by this point. So tired.

Michael blinked. Then slowly parted his lips. Then shook his head, a little pityingly, "Luke, I love you. I've given you more than anyone else, why can't that be enough?" Luke felt like those words would've been so much more convincing if Luke couldn't smell the smoke on Michaels clothes, if he couldn't see his beautiful eyes so fucking bloodshot.

"Michael, I need you. But I can't - I need a boyfriend sometimes."

Michael's eyes widened, "Luke I love-"

"Me. I know. Trust me, I do. And I love you so fucking much it's physically killing me, and everyday I have to watch you kill yourself and do you know how much that hurts? How much it kills me inside? I live in fear that one day I'll come over and Calum'll tell me how you overdosed and then what?"

Michael kissed him.

"Luke," he whispered, "I'm fine-"

"Michael-"

"I am Luke."

And that's what always pushed Luke towards the edge. Because he wasn't. Michael never was. "I'm so fucking done with this Michael."

"Luke, wait-"

Luke got up - fuck, he was storming out of two houses in two days - "Clean up your act Michael, because one day I won't be around to do it for you."

He stormed down the stairs (Michael never followed him, he never needed to) and saw Calum staring at him with knowing eyes - they were never filled with pity - and Luke smiled. He'd gotten so good at the whole fake smiling thing (he was sure that Calum saw through it).

"You can leave him," Calum spoke softly, as if he was scared of breaking him. Luke didn't blame him, he felt like he could easily be broken right now.

"And you can stop doing drugs," it wasn't menacing, it was just the only words that Luke could say that could even come close to explaining to Calum what leaving Michael would feel like.

Calum laughed, a sad laugh, "I wish."

"No, I don't think you do."

...

Luke remembers, is the thing.

He remembers why he can't live without Michael, why he needs Michael.

He's not even surprised when the next morning he ends up in front of Michael's bedroom knocking, one hand already heading for the handle.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, kudos?


End file.
